


pick a star (on the dark horizon)

by ariadne_odair



Category: Star Trek
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 17:58:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7693984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadne_odair/pseuds/ariadne_odair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock looks up, but doesn't say anything. He arches an eyebrow instead, and the laugh bubbles out of Jim's chest before he can stop it. Jim points at him with his fork. “Don't think I don't know what that was about.”</p><p>Spock gazes at him calmly before saying, “It would be more beneficial to eat with your utensils then use them in that manner,” and Jim laughs so hard he can't breath.</p><p>Alternatively Titled: Five crew-members who (inadvertently) get Spock and Jim together.</p><p> </p><p>- Please don't put my works on GoodReads or any other external sites! -</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to wait until I'd completed this to post it as one work, but I have work non-stop then holiday soon, so I thought I'd put up what I have so far.
> 
> The description thingy is a bit shit so I;ll change that when I write something better lmaoooo

_Sulu_  

Jim’s immune system is shot to shit. He’s allergic to almost everything, to the point where Bones follows him around any time he goes out to eat in case he blows up like a puffer fish. At the academy this definitely limited the amount of dates he went on. It’s hard to get to know someone when a certain Southern doctor is sitting there and hyperventilating the moment you lift your fork.

Come to think of it, it’s not Jim’s fault he just cut out the (overbearing) middle man and skipped to the bedroom so much. It’s totally Bones’ fault. Ha. Jim is going to pull that one next time Bones tells him how much of a floozy he is.

ANYWAY, Jim’s diet is seriously limited. Added to the fact he doesn’t have the healthiest eating patterns on the Enterprise, means it’s often a point of exasperation among the crew.

He and Sulu get drunk one night on shore leave, and they get chatting about it. Sulu is pretty cool. Apparently jumping off giant, Romulan drills together is a great ice breaker. Jim is pouting about being unable to use the vending machine, when Sulu jokes that it’d be a real time saver if Jim could just live on water and sugar.

Then he and Sulu get even more trashed and drunk call Pike, (honestly, such a terrible, terrible idea), and he forgets all about it. It’s not until a couple of days later that the drunk memory resurfaces and Jim gets the idea.

-

Bones takes one look at him and says, “No.”

“You haven’t even - “

“No,” Bones snaps, and wrestles it from Jim’s hands. “What is this? Where did you even get this from?”

Jim beams at him. “It’s a slushie.”

Bones looks practically apoplectic, it’s fantastic. The vein in his forehead is like, pulsing. That’s another thing Jim is going to remind him of when he’s commenting on Jim’s flooziness. Floozibility. Whatever. “A slushie.”

Jim beams even wider, so Bones can see the way his lips are stained blue. “Yeah. It’s basically ice and food colouring and a shit tonne of additives. Sulu gave me the idea.”

“Sulu gave you the idea.” Ah, shit. Totally dropped him in it. He’ll survive. Chekov loves Sulu and Bones has practically adopted Chekov, so he won’t maim him too badly.”Do you know how much crap is in this?”

Jim rolls his eyes. “Bones, it’s literally just ice. That’s why it’s called a slushie, because it’s just slush. Blue slush.” He sighs at the devil eyes Bones is slanting his way. “Yes, I checked my chart, no, I’m not allergic to any of it. That’s the point - I can’t be allergic to water.”

Bones doesn’t even look up from where he’s jabbing the slushie with Jim’s straw. “Yes, you could. You would, just to spite me.”

Jim snatches his slushie back and chews on the straw. “Well I think it’s hilarious and I’m keeping it.”

“Just stay out of medbay,” Bones glares, and Jim chokes on his straw he’s laughing so hard.

 

-

 

He and Scotty re programme the replicators so they’ll make slushies, so Jim keys one in for himself and decides to take it to alpha shift with him. Uhura sees him as he’s walking to the turbolift and tells him he looks like a ten year old. She doesn’t say it as sharply as she could though, so she’s definitely super jealous.

The turbolift stops half way up. Jim looks up from where he has his PADD in one hand, then smiles a little when Spock walks in. “Commander.”

Jim’s leaning lazily against the wall. He’s got his slushie in one hand, lips still wrapped around the straw, teeth digging in slightly so he won’t drop it. His lips feel numb, cold, He sucks on the straw a little, then frowns when Spock doesn’t reply.

He flicks his gaze up, only to startle when he realises Spock is full out staring. Those dark eyes are fixated on Jim’s? Mouth? Lips? It makes something flutter in Jim’s chest, and those wings only beat faster when he sees the gentle green flush that decorates Spock’s cheeks.

“Your lips are blue,” Spock announces abruptly. His tone rises at the end, and when Jim looks at his hands, those long fingers are clenched. “You do not appear to be suffering from hypothermia. Has your body temperature dropped below core levels?”

Spock is so fucking weird sometimes. Jim chews on his straw, and his voice is slightly muffled as he speaks around it. “No, nothing like that, it’s just the dye in my drink.” He pulls the straw from his lips with a pop. “It’s a slushie, look.”

Spock’s forehead crinkles minutely. “I am not familiar with this Terran beverage.”

“It’s just dyed ice basically,” Jim explains. “With a shit tonne of sugar. Bones has already reamed me out for it, and Uhura totally gave me the evil eye, but I bet she secretly wants one. Scotty was on board, but I think he just likes to screw around with the replicators.”

“It is not permitted to consume foodstuffs on the bridge, except in the case of medical requirements,” Spock intones, but it lacks the usual righteous Vulcan conviction.

“Uh huh. You want to try some?” Jim offers, then promptly wishes he could Vulcan hand jab himself so he could pass out.

Spock mouth actually drops open and fantastic, he’s completely fucked it all up now. Vulcan’s are stupidly aloof and he’s probably just offered to have Spock’s pointy eared babies or something. Now he’s going to have go on a billion cultural sensitivity classes and find a new first officer, which sucks because he actually really likes -

“Yes.”

Jim’s jaw drops open. “What?”

Spock stiffens. “If your offer was made in jest - “

“No, no, I just didn't think you’d - I didn’t,” Jim rambles, and thrusts the cup towards Spock in a panic. There’s an even more awkward pause which is totally unfair, because Spock said he wanted to try it, he did, and now Jim looks like an idiot with a cup, Jesus.

Spock reaches for the cup. He’s very careful not to brush Jim’s fingers. Spock places his hand on Jim’s straw to steady it, and Jim feels like all the oxygen has been drawn from his lungs, as though Spock is cupping all the air in his hands.

Spock takes a sip from the slushie. His tongue darts out over his lips, and then he passes the cup back. “The taste is - saccharine.”

Jim swallows. “Yeah, like I said. Additives.”

The door of the turbo lift pings. Spock steps away, and Jim breathes in deeply. He’s about to push off the wall when Spock turns. His eyes are dark and unreadable as they run over Jim.

“Your lips are still blue, Captain,” he states, and then he turns and walks to his station.

Jim jams his straw back into his mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't know if Chekov was a Leuteinant or an ensign so he got a promotion.

_Chekov_  

Pavel Andreievich Chekov is probably the smartest person on board the Enterprise. He’s smarter than Jim, he’s smarter than Scotty, and he could probably give Spock a run for his money.

He’s also seventeen - ‘Eighteen in a month, keptin!’ - which means he’s definitely the youngest person on board the Enterprise. He’s all curly hair and bambi eyes, and his golden shirt is slightly too big for him. The ends dangle over his hands.

Jim once saved a kitten that had been hit by a car, and that’s what Chekov reminds him of. Except not fatally injured. And with only two legs. The same surge of helpless protectiveness though, which is horrifying because Jim is twenty three and not fucking broody.

Another thing Pavel Andreievich Chekov is: absolutely terrified of Spock.

One time, Spock walked into the engine room while Jim and Chekov were checking over the warp core. Chekov took one look at Spock, turned fuschia, and tried to sink into the floor. Like actually, physically attempted to become one with the engine deck.

Jim was so distracted by this he had no idea what Spock even came into tell him. Once Spock left, Chekov straightened back up again, but he was still a startling pink colour. Jim couldn’t even question him about it for fear of sending the kid into shock.

The third time Jim sees Chekov turn straight the fuck around when he sees Spock coming down the corridor, he decides he has to do something, ASAP.

Jim has been captain of the Enterprise for three months now. At some point he and Spock stumbled over the messy line between acquaintances and friends. Their relationships is still charged, snapping. It’s a live wire of conflicting opinions and icy fronts and dagger sharp words, but when they get it right -

When they get it right, it’s a synergy Jim can’t place. It’s a coordinated dance where each of them know exactly where to step, when to act. Jim is pretty sure it has something to do with the Narada incident and everything that happened after. _You and I bleeded over the same sands._

Spock plays chess with him in his quarters a couple of times a week. Tonight Jim’s dragged the desk over so he can sit cross legged on his bed, while Spock sits in his desk chair. Jim is snacking on a packet of yogurt coated apricots, because he only had breakfast today. Which is fine because he’s eating now, shut up, Bones.

It’s Spock’s move and he’s staring at the board pensively. His eyes are dark and layered as he surveys the board, and he’s stripped down to his black undershirt. Jim knows a lot about diplomatic relations and he also knows that Spock once made him bleed all over a console.

“Do you know that Chekov is terrified of you?”

Spock looks up at him. “Is your attempt to converse a stalling tactic?”

Jim didn’t even realise it was his move, he was trying to get the last apricot out the packet. He moves his bishop. “No. Like I need it anyway, I’m going to kick your ass.” He grins at the way Spock stiffens slightly. “I was being serious, the kid looks like he’s going to faint every time you walk into the room.”

There’s a long pause, then Spock says, “Lieutenant Chekov has never displayed xenophonic - “

“What? Spock, no, Chekov’s not xenophobic,” Jim interrupts. “That’s not what I meant, I - . Do you - you really don’t know why he’s so anxious?”

Jim puts his pawn down, game completely forgotten. Spock looks really uncertain now, his back stiff and his eyes shuttered. Spock answers slowly. “I understand Chekov was present for our physical altercation on the bridge - “

Jim reaches for him, can’t help it. It’s an instinctive need to touch Spock, one he doesn’t like to overanalyze. Spock’s shirt is long sleeved. Jim wraps his fingers around Spock’s wrist, careful not to touch skin.

“Spock. No one cares about that, I said some awful stuff, I would have punched my own face in. To be honest, it was good motivation to get in shape because it’s super embarrassing I didn’t last more than three seconds.” Jim waves his free hand when Spock opens his mouth. “It doesn’t matter, it’s in the past. We did okay in the end, no one cares about that. Chekov is nervous as an alley cat because he couldn’t - because of what happened on Vulcan.”

There’s a horrible silence. This is fully the last time Jim ever does something for his crew, because Spock actually inhales quietly, and Jim has never heard him make a noise like that. It makes something ache in his chest, that throbbing pain you get when you press down on a bruise.

“Lieutenant Chekov did everything in his capabilities to retrieve the Vulcan elders. He can not have predicted the instability of the cliff side at that precise moment.”

“Guilt isn’t logical, Spock,” Jim whispers. He tightens his grip on Spock’s wrist, squeezing gently. “Chekov couldn’t save your mom. It doesn’t matter if he tried his best. He feels terrible.”

“Humans are - illogical,” Spock says after a moment, and Jim lets out a strangled laugh and pulls his hand away.

“Yep,” he agrees. “You bored of us yet?”

Spock sits a little straighter, and picks up a chess piece. “However, I believe Lieutenant Chekov’s irrational guilt belays a concern for my wellbeing.”

Jim translates this as: what a fucking cutie. “Yeah, I think he’s got a case of hero worship going on. Below you know, the irrational guilt and bone chilling fear.”

Spock nods decisively. “I will speak with him.”

Jim nods. They resume playing after that, but Jim is too nervous to say anything. It’s definitely best for Spock and Chekov to have a heart to heart, but now he feels like the asshole for bringing it up like that. He honestly though Spock would already have an inkling, but clearly not.

He can’t help glancing at Spock throughout the game, then glancing away whenever the Vulcan catches his gaze. He’s picking nervously at his golden shirt with his fingernails, when Spock finally says, “Is everything adequate, Captain?”

Jim sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. “Sorry about bringing your - “ _mother_ “planet up like that. I honestly thought you had an idea, I didn’t mean to just blurt it out like that.”

“Jim,” Spock interrupts, and it knocks Jim off course for a moment, makes him feel like he slipped a rung on a ladder. This is the first time Spock has ever called him by first name. (Suicide missions against genocidal Romulans do not count.) "Your manner was not insensitive.”

Jim swallows. “Well, sorry anyway.”

“There is no need for apologies,” Spock repeats firmly. “And it is your move.”

Jim feels like crap for the rest of the night, and he doesn't even bitch when Spock beats him. Those dark eyes run over him when Jim walks him to the door, but Jim just mumbles good night and closes the door.

He collapsed on his bed, picking at a thread on his shirt, and wonders if he really knows what he hell he’s doing.

 

-

 

Jim actually finishes shift at a normal time for once, so when he heads down to eat, the hall is pretty busy. Jim stands with his tray in his hands and grins at the scene before him; the sea of red and blue and yellow, moving and flowing and buzzing.

He flops down at what has unofficially become the captain’s table. The pasta he replicated looks kinda weird so he pokes it with his fork.

There's the sound of footsteps and when Jim looks up Spock is walking over.

“Commander,” Jim greets him.

“Captain.” Spock doesn't flop down, but he probably doesn't flop anywhere. It's probably un-Vulcan.

They eat in comfortable silence. Jim is checking the engineering request Scotty has just sent him on his PADD, when Chekov bounds over to his table. His hands are wrapped around his tray and there's a smear of grease on his cheek.

“Keptin,” Chekov greets cheerily. He glances at Spock and dims a little. His voice is far more subdued as he says, “Kommander. Doctor McCoy is asking that you visit medbay, Keptin. He says he has found a, um. Another potential allergy.”

Jim grins. “He didn't say those exact words, did he?”

“Not exactly, Sir, no.”

“I'll be down there soon,” Jim promises, even though he fully plans to never do that. “Thanks for telling me.”

“Lieutenant,” Spock interrupts. Both Jim and Chekov jump at the interruption. Chekov's eyes are so wide he might as well be a cartoon character.

Spock inclines his head. “If you are available, I wish to discuss with you some alterations to the warp core that I plan to propose.”

Jim stares at Spock. Chekov stares at Spock. Jim stares at Chekov, then back to Spock, then back to Chekov. Spock stares at Chekov impassively, who turns pink and nearly drops his tray.

Jim kicks out a chair. “Take a seat.”

 

-

 

Chekov leaves lunch glowing; he's pink to the roots of his curls. Once he'd stopped looking he was waiting for Spock to kill him, he'd been waving his hands and slipping into Russian and pointing out issues even Spock hadn't seen.

Chekov actually waves - _waves_ \- to Spock as he leaves for shift. Jim watches him leave, then turns his gaze to Spock.

Spock is focused on his own PADD. His eyes are dark, almost black but with hints of gold, and Jim feels his lips curve up for no particular reason.

Spock looks up, but doesn't say anything. He arches an eyebrow instead, and the laugh bubbles out of Jim's chest before he can stop it.

Jim points at him with his fork. “Don't think I don't know what that was about.”

Spock gazes at him calmly before saying, “It would be more beneficial to eat with your utensils then use them in that manner,” and Jim laughs so hard he can't breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't actually like this chapter. Idk it just feels a bit OOC and a bit off and I'm not happy with it but /there you go/. My mental health is a bit shitty at the moment so I just wanted to get this posted really. Idk. Let me know what you think if you like :) 
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos so far!! 
> 
> I'm not sure when the next chapter will be, but there will be another Chekov influenced chapter and I have plans for my Uhura one already :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun facts: I really, really like Uhura, but I just don't know how to write her. I still feel my Jim and Spock are a bit off and OCC, so I do hope to include her more in perhaps later fics when I've settled into my writing style more. Same for Sulu (and his husband!) and Bones.
> 
> This is possibly my favourite chapter I've written so far, so I hope you like it!

_Chekov (point two)_

The first birthday on board the ship is Chekov’s; it’s also Chekov’s eighteenth, so before the month even begins Jim knows it’s going to be a shit show. A good shit show, not like that ‘friendly fire’ the Zanthians shot at them last month. The fun kind with cake and balloons.

Spock must have really taken what Jim said to heart, because he and Chekov are all pally pally now. It’s like Jim’s no longer the fun parent. Chekov drags these huge, heavy, astrophysics books over to their dining table and makes Spock look at them. Jim is also an expert in astrophysics, but Jim doesn’t have pointy ears so clearly he doesn’t make the cut.

He tells Bones this, and Bones just blinks and goes, “So you finally realised you and the hobgoblin are married, then?”

Jim, perched on a biobed and dangling his feet over the edge, frowns. “Uh. No. Obviously. Not in the physical sense, but we kind of - . We’re in charge of all these people. And in charge of the ship. So it’s kind of like having a house and kids. Only without the wedding and stuff -   _why are you looking at me like that?”_

Bones laughs so hard that he doesn’t even see the middle finger Jim throws his way as he stalks out. He also definitely says something to Sulu, because somebody started humming the wedding march during training and it wasn’t _Jim_.

Anyway, they throw Chekov an eighteenth birthday party. Jim puts a cap on the alcohol limit, because Chekov is really still just a kid, and he wasn’t really joking about the responsibility thing. Suu and Scotty make a cake. Uhura - after a lot of coaxing and eye rolling - teaches everyone to sing ‘happy birthday’ in Russian. Jim dubs himself as ‘head of decorations committee,’ and Bones rolls his eyes so hard Jim’s surprised they don’t pop out of his skull.

It’s also a surprise birthday party, which means a frantic half hour of setting up that evening while Sulu distracts Chekov.

“Spock,” Jim calls, “you’re tall, right?”

Spock looks at him, from where he’s meticulously untangling a row of paper chains. “Captain, I am approximately one point eight eight metres tall. For humans this is - “

“I know you just do that to mess with me,” Jim interrupts, wandering over. Spock is sitting on the edge of his chair, so Jim kicks his foot gently. “Come on, I need your help with this banner.”

Spock looks over the room slowly. “I believe there is already a surplus amount of adornments.”

Jim shakes his head. “Yeah, but this is a special one. Sulu drew a picture of the crew on it. He even did you.”

Spock looks over to the banner, looks back, and says, “That does not endear the prospect to me any more.”

Jim scowls.  “Also, I’m head of decorations committee, so you have to do what I say.”

Spock shoots him a look that means if he was human he’d be sighing. “As Captain of this ship, within reason and certain parameters I already ‘have to do what you say.’ Furthermore, that is a fictitious role that does not actually exist within Starfleet command.”

“Well, when I’m head of Starfleet I’ll make it one.”

Spock’s lips twitch.

“In fact,” Jim grins, “I might even create an entire department - “

“You,” Spock states, “are being deliberately vexing.”

“Yeah, but you like it,” Jim laughs. He kicks Spock’s foot again, and when the Vulcan doesn’t react, three more times. “Come on, Spock, help me.”

Spock’s eyebrow moves an inch, which means that he’s glaring inside. He rises from the chair reluctantly, carefully placing down the paper chains. “I suppose it would be my duty to help those who are more vertically challenged.”

Jim chokes on his own spit. “Did you - did you just call me short?”

Before Jim can decide whether to laugh or be offended, Sulu dashes through the door. “He’s coming!”

Chekov actually cries when he sees the party.

It’s horrible. And very embarrassing. And the kid is definitely not a cute crier; his eyes go all puffy and his nose runs. It’s gross. Jim feel like his insides have turned to mush. Chekov hugs everyone apart from Jim and Spock, but he does go pink when Jim ruffles his hair.

At one point, Sulu has coerced everyone into playing a drinking game. Chekov is still pretty sober, but Jim opts to watch instead. He leans against the wall with a plate of cake in his hand. Spock had also declined to play - he can’t get drunk on human alcohol anyway.

Spock glances at him. “Captain, you did not choose the chocolate dessert. Such a sweetener is often favoured among humans.”

Jim shrugs and stabs a piece of victoria sponge. “I’m just not a fan, I guess. I’ve never liked chocolate.”

This isn’t entirely a lie; Jim stopped liking chocolate when he was thirteen, when he stepped off that shuttle from Tarsus, when everything he was and everything he is had been twisted and warped and shattered.

He wouldn’t eat, had to be drip fed for weeks. Winona would offer him all his old favourites, sweets and ice cream and apple pie. It wasn’t until Jim ate six Snickers bars in a row, then promptly threw them all up, that she let it go. Neither of them have been ‘fans’ of chocolate since.

There’s no way Jim’ll admit that though, so he just repeats, “I'm just not a fan. Do you want to try some?”

“Maybe later,” Spock replies slowly. His eyes flit over him, and Jim feels his heart knock against the edge of his ribs. Spock doesn’t move when their shoulders brush, and they both watch as a cheerful Chekov takes a shot.

 

-

 

“Right. Are we all sure we weren’t followed?”

“Captain,” Uhura says sweetly, which means she’s mentally breaking his fingers. “If you do not stop acting like we are in a bad, twentieth century spy film, I am going to push you out the airlock.”

Jim glares at her. “I’m putting that in your end of year report.” 

“No you’re not - “ 

“Jim,” Bones snaps, looking up from his tricorder. “Not that I don’t enjoy your daily dose of crazy, but could you hurry it up a little. I’ve got a medbay full of Andorian flu.”

Jim glares even harder. “None of you are any fun at all. How do you know I haven’t called you here for something really cool?”

“If it was really cool it wouldn’t be taking you a millennium to explain it - “

“Shut up, Bones,” Jim snaps. “I’m here to talk about Spock’s birthday party.”

Bones facepalms his PADD and Sulu looks up with an alarmed expression. Uhura’s hand twitches like she’s going to start manhandling him into deep space. Jesus, Jim has to have the most subordinate crew in the entire fucking fleet. “Jeez, at least try to look interested. You’re all going in the brig.” Chekov looks faintly alarmed at this, so Jim adds, “Apart from Chekov.”

“Do you remember that thing about Spock being Vulcan?” Bones demands, slamming his PADD down. “Pointy ears, green blood, allergic to any type of emotion to the point of anaphylactic shock.”

“Half human,” Jim corrects automatically.

“Commander Spock doesn’t really seem the partying type,” Sulu interjects diplomatically. “Do Vulcans even celebrate birthdays?”

“Half human,” Jim sighs, but Bones speaks over him.

“Look, Jim, it’s a nice sentiment, but I think you’d piss him off more than anything. He’d probably tell you it was illogical, and then not speak to you for a month. Like the time with the palm reading.”

In lieu of a defence, Jim slams his foot into Bone’s ankle under the table. “Hey, that was an accident! I didn’t - I thought he’d think it was cool - “

“Did you just kick me, are you fucking twelve - “

“I think it is good idea,” Chekov says loudly. They all turn to look at him, startling a little. “He is part of the crew, yes? And we are a family. So we should celebrate.” He casts a cautious look at Jim. “Only, in his way. I do not think Mr Spock would like vodka and dancing.”

“Precisely,” Jim sighs, waving his hand at him. “Chekov gets it. I’m not saying we take him on a bar crawl. I just think we should show him that - you know. Appreciate him. The crew, this ship, it’s all we have out here. Crew means family. Crew means we care.”

Silence falls again after that. Bones mouth is drawn into a tight line, but his eyes are soft. Bones is a total sweetheart, he just acts like a pissed off brown bear to cover it. Sulu looks a little awkward, but resolute, and Chekov is practically vibrating with excitement.

Uhura doesn’t say anything. Her eyes are dark, considering when Jim meets her gaze. Jim flushes for no discernible reason, then flushes harder when her eyes widen slightly at that.

Sulu hums thoughtfully. “I can have a look in the botany labs. Commander Spock is a scientist - there’s got to be something in there that he might find interesting.”

Jim smiles at him. “Exactly what I was thinking. Like Chekov said, no party, no big celebration, just do something nice, okay? Bones, not referring to him in a derogatory manner for twenty four hours can count as your something nice.”

The meeting kinda dissolves after that, with the rest of the crew bantering back and forth about what they think Spock would like the most. Sulu, Chekov and Bones are all talking over each other as they leave, which leaves Uhura and Jim alone together.

Uhura looks at him. Jim chews his bottom lip, suddenly anxious. “I’m sorry if this is awkward. I just thought you and Spock were still friends, even though you guys. Um.”

“We are still friends,” Uhura answers. Her tone is very even and very gentle. “This is a nice idea. It’s very - kind, that you thought about doing this for Spock.”

Jim shuffles a little, and she sighs. “Jim, I’m being serious. I think Spock is going to be very touched that you did this.”

“That we’re all doing this,” Jim interjects, and Uhura smiles, soft and small.

“I’ll see you on the bridge, Captain,” is all she says, and pats his shoulder before she leaves.

  


-

  


The day of Spock’s birthday, they’re in rotation around Alpha Seven. Sulu is beside himself, because the planet is famous for it’s collection of plants from all around the galaxy. Huge parts of it are somewhat of a nature reserve; even from the Enterprise it’s a flush of green.

Jim sees Spock as he’s heading up for alpha shift. Spock presses the button to stop the lift doors closing, and Jim mumbles a, “Thanks.”

Spock just inclines his head, and Jim clears his throat. “Are you free tonight?” he blurts, before he can lose his nerve. He’s not sure why; it’s just Spock. Spock once physically held Jim’s guts in that time they were ambushed by Klingons. Jim once sewed up a six inch slash on Spock’s inner thigh, then had to wait six hours for the Enterprise to find them with Spock’s leg in his lap. Jim’s pretty certain personal boundaries have been all but eviscerated.

Spock lifts an eyebrow. “I have no pre-determined plans for this evening, Captain.”

“Great. Meet me in the transporter room at 1900 hours.”

“Captain?”

“It’s a surprise,” Jim grins, relaxing a little. Spock looks seriously confused, (well, for him), but he’s clearly to polite - and reserved - to ask what’s going on. “It’ll be fun.”

“That is also how you referred to your and Lieutenant Sulu’s attempt to ‘space dive,” Spock says critically. “Considering the definition of this adjective, I am not sure you know how to properly apply the meaning.”

“Don’t bitch me out about grammar, Spock, it’s rude.”

“Vulcan’s do not ‘bitch’ - “

“Yeah, well they also don’t lie, and look at the fib you just told.”

“Vulcan’s - “

“Keptin,” Chekov interrupts tentatively, and Jim realises that he and Spock are still standing in the turbolift, even though they’ve arrived at the bridge. “I, ah, I am not sure you count as being on the bridge yet, Sir.”

“Did you just make a joke?” Jim asks delightedly, and beams when Chekov smiles at him hesitantly. He shoves Spock in the arm. “Chekov made a joke!”

Spock doesn’t roll his eyes, but Jim suspects it’s a very close thing.

Jim realises later that Spock never actually agreed to meet him at the transporter room. Spock never actually said yes. Jim realises this half way through alpha shift, which means he spends the next four hours squirming in his chair. What if Jim turns up and Spock isn’t there? Scotty would probably fall out of his chair he’d laugh so hard.

Alpha shifts ends finally, and Jim hands the conn over. Spock had been required to report to the science labs about an hour ago, so it’s just Jim in the lift. Jim heads for his quarters, changing into a simple dark black shirt. He realises he didn’t even tell Spock what to wear; Jim’s idea of fun really is relative, so it’s possible Spock might show up ready for a fist fight.

Something settles under his ribs when he arrives at 1900 and Spock is waiting for him. Spock is wearing a dark shirt too; it makes his eyes look even darker, lashes sweeping against his cheeks.

Spock turns to greet him. “Captain, I did not know the specifics of our arrangement. Therefore I have donned a casual attire; however if I should change - “

“No, you’re fine,” Jim interjects quickly. “You don’t need to bring anything. Scotty, you have the coordinates?”

“Aye, Captain,” Scotty nods, flicking a button on the console. “Have a pleasant evening, Sir, Commander.”

Light swirls around them, and when it stops, Jim starts to feel nervous again. Spock looks around calmly. “Captain, why have you brought us to a zoological garden?”

“You’ll see,” Jim answers, pushing the wooden gate open. “Come on.”

The zoological gardens on Alpha Seven are well known; the planet’s terrain and climate differs depending on the region, meaning it’s perfect for housing all different types of species.

Of course very few places exist with animals in captivity anymore. Alpha Seven is more of a nature reserve, a conservation project that breeds and reintroduces creatures back to their home worlds.

Their guide greets them enthusiastically.  The people here are humanoid, apart from their bright pink skin. They can also imitate any type of animal noise, and Jim laughs in delight as the guide demonstrates a number of bird calls. Even Spock’s eyes soften when L’Para makes a horrible growling noise, explaining it is the call of a predator native to their planet. Jim makes a mental note never to run into one.

L’Para tells them that visitors are not encouraged around the animals, however they have heard of the Enterprise and her crew. She even offers to let the botany team come have a look at the gardens, which will be Jim’s birthday present to Sulu for the next six years.

Eventually L’Para leaves them to look around by themselves, waving enthusiastically. “She’s nice,” says Jim softly, and Spock nods.

“She is very welcoming.”

He and Spock have fun looking around the reserve. The habitats are huge; designed in every way to replicate the planets they’ll be returning to. One such area is a sprawling desert where an animal called a Varga bounds around. It looks like a hairless fox, and a sign says that it’s due to be released in a few days.

“Have fun, buddy,” Jim grins, pressing his hand to the glass, and grins in delight when the Varga squishes its’ nose against the window.

“Captain,” Spock says after half an hour. He and Jim are wandering down a large tunnel, where seal like creatures swim over their heads. The tunnel is deep as well as wide; so far down that the water has gone black. “While this is certainly a fascinating venture, I much enquire about your intention behind such a visit.”

Gentle shades of blue from the tunnel tints Spock’s face; a soft hue of cerulean washing over his cheekbones. Jim swallows. “I wanted - “ The words stick in his throat, and Jim’s tongue feels heavy. “There’s one last thing I want you to see.”

Spock frowns, but he nods slowly. He follows Jim wordlessly through the last door, then freezes.

In front of them is a desert landscape; areas of dusty sand, with trees curling around the edges to provide shelter and a place to hide. The animal inside is large; russet brown fur and with sharp, long teeth. It’s curled happily around a rock, its’ tail swishing back and forth lazily.

Spock makes a small noise at the back of his throat.

When Jim looks at him, his eyes are large and wide, and very, very dark. His bottom lip trembles.

He steps forward, stumbling slightly, until he’s an inch from the glass. Jim hangs back, and his eyes lift to the sign to the left. It reads in black, block letters: **Sehlat** , and then below that: **Origin: Vulcan**.

“I did not,” Spock begins, then clears his throat. “I did not know that any Vulcan species had been preserved. I had assumed that had been wiped out along with my - with the planet.”

Jim steps forward. Spock lifts one hand and presses it shakily to the glass. Another sehlat has padded out from a cave further back. This one is smaller, leaner, and it nudges the other one playfully before flopping down for a nap too.

“They weren’t,” Jim says softly. “They already had a small breeding population here, for zoological research I think. The Vulcan High Council hope that if the reserve is successful they will be able to reintroduce them back onto New Vulcan. Genetic engineering will play a part of course,but you can’t genetically engineer something you don’t have. New Vulcan isn’t exactly the same but the climate should be similar enough. The reserve is going to alter the habitat slowly so the animals can adjust.”

Spock puts a second hand to the glass. For a moment Jim imagines Spock as a little boy; solemn and dark eyed, with his nose pressed to the glass. The sehlat rolls onto its back and yawns; its’ front fangs are the size of Jim’s hand.

Jim lowers himself to the floor and crosses his legs. “I got the idea when we plotted the course; Sulu was so excited about the collection of plant life they had here. I was interested when I saw they had wildlife too. I looked into it a bit more and they said that after what happened last year, they’d been hoping to reintroduce Vulcan species one day.”

Spock’s legs tremble, and he lowers himself to the floor. He and Jim are now the same height, and when he turns to him, his eyes are glossy. “Jim.”

“It’s your birthday,” Jim whispers. “I didn’t know what to get you, but I saw this and I thought it was something you’d want to see.”

It’s so quiet; the atmosphere around them as soft as spun sugar. Spock leans forward, cautious, tentative. He presses his forehead against Jim’s, and Jim inhales quietly in surprise. Spock’s eyes are closed, and Jim’s feels his own eyes flutter shut too.  

“Thank you,” Spock whispers, and his voice is hoarse. Jim doesn’t reply, doesn’t break the quiet. They sit there for what could be lifetimes, foreheads bent, sharing the same air, and don’t move until the hear L’Para approaching.

  


-

 

(When L’Para finds them, she makes an excited trilling sound. Jim runs it through his PADD, discovers it's a traditional sehlat mating call, and walks straight into a jefferies tube.)

 

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine the little Vagra with his snout smushed against the window what a cutie. 
> 
> My plans after this fic are to write a fic where Jim and Spock get together in the academy, and then rewriting ST and STID with them as cute emotionally stunted boyfriends. I also have a fem!spirk fic in my google drives, which is basically Jim being bi as fuck and fighting slut shaming and her and Uhura starting a girl band and not shaving her legs cause who the fuck has the time
> 
> though to be fair in the shower today i was also thinking of a spirk beauty and the beast au so you know. that'll probably be half assessed in my google drive somewhere
> 
> have a nice dayyy everybody


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA LOOK WHO POSTED TWO DAYS IN A ROOOW
> 
> aaalso five points if you can guess what crew member gets them together in this chapter
> 
> ALSO I KNOW THAT THIS WAS A PROMPT ON TUMBLR BUT I ACTUALLY HAD THE IDEA WEEKS AGO I think I even reblogged the post saying this is literally the plot of my next chapter go me

James Tiberius Kirk has never been one to do things by halves, so it’s not really that surprising when he realises he’s half in love with Spock.

Half, because even within the accelerated parameters of their relationship, they’ve only known each other for a year and a half. Also because Jim is a lot fucked up and has a bundle of attachment issues that he doesn’t even want to poke at.

Jim doesn’t just have feelings for Spock; he has feelings for his half-Vulcan, First Officer, best friend. Way to go all out, Kirk. He’s pretty certain this isn’t what Pike meant when he said he hoped Spock would be a good influence on him. Shit. _Pike_. He definitely can never, never know.

Because that’s the other thing; Jim is never, ever going to tell Spock.

 

-

 

It’s one of those missions where everything that should have happened has been flipped on its head. One of those missions when Jim can feel the sharp tang of fear at the back of his teeth; when he’s acutely aware of how many people are relying on him. On the lives he holds in his hands, desperate to not let them slip through his fingers.

They had been visiting a planet named Selpha Seven after reaching a transmission saying they wished to discuss trade negotiations. It’s not too close to the neutral zone, but close enough that Jim’s back had been up anyway.

However, Uhura said that the transmission was sound, and there had been a sense of excitement on the bridge about visiting a new planet. Jim had been preparing to beam down with the other crew, when the transporter had glitched.

Jim had stepped off the pad and shrugged at Scotty. A few seconds later, they were being slammed into a red alert and it had become apparent that the inhabitants of Selpha Seven hadn’t been the one to send that transmission after all.

The Selphians have been overrun by a hostile race called the Nargu. Without too much digging Jim uncovers connections between them and the Klingons, and his heart sinks even further. Scotty explains that the glitch on the transporter was actually the Nargu trying to intercept their systems.

“They didn’t manage to, Captain,” he explains apologetically. “But I cannae beam back the ones that already down there.”

Because that’s the other thing: some of the crew did manage to beam down. Six, in fact, three science officers, one communication officer and two security guards. They are also being held by the Nargu, according to the pretty picture Uhura received of six Starfleet officers with wicked looking knives held to their throats.

One of them is Lieutenant Jensen. She’s only eighteen; her and Chekov are practically joined at the hip, always walking to the mess together. Her face is burnt into Jim’s eyes; defiant brown eyes, light hair, and a trail of scarlet dripping down her cheek. _Eighteen._

It’s pure chance that Jim didn’t manage to get down there as well. Though, karma seems determined to fuck him up anyway, because naturally the Nargu are now demanding Jim get his ass down there too.

“The Nargu are ordering the captain of this vessel to beam down, Sir,” Uhura translates, her tone like steel. “They say if you don’t comply with your request, they will kill the crew and open fire on us.”

“Keptin, scans of the planet show they do have considerable ammunition,” Chekov adds, his fingers flying over his screen. “However, considering the strength of our varp core, we could easily evade them.” He swallows and spins in his chair to look at Jim. “That would mean leaving the others though, Sir.”

Leaving them to be murdered. Or worse.

“And we can’t beam them up? You’re sure?”

“The Nargu are manipulating the electromagnetic currents of the planet,” Spock answers. His tone, as ever, is perfectly even. “Mr Scott’s appraisal of the situation is correct. Furthermore, it is likely they will have moved the hostages further out of range of our sensors since their transmission.”

Chekov nods. “This is also true. We could only beam down, not up.”

It’s a testament to how serious this is that Spock says nothing about how Vulcan’s can’t lie.

Jim rises from his chair. “Uhura, Spock, you’re with me. Sulu, you have the conn. Alert me if we get any more transmissions, Chekov I want you working on those electromagnetic fields. Scotty, get the warp core ready and see if you can boost the power of our transporter.”

He turns on his heel and presses the button for the turbo lift. Uhura and Spock flank him, and Spock starts speaking the moment the doors shut. “Captain, I insist - “

Jim ignores him. “Uhura, what else did the transmission say?”

Uhura clears her throat. “The Nargu strongly oppose the federation, most likely due to their ties to the Klingon empire. For what I understand, the Selphians did want to start trading with us - but the Nargu took over their transmission lines, and later their planet.”

The door opens and Jim strides out, heading for the transporter room. “Have you contacted the rest of the fleet?”

Uhura hesitates. “I’ve attempted to, Captain, but I can’t guarantee it’ll reach the nearest federation vessel or with precision. I will keep trying.”

“Good.” Jim turns a corner. “I need you to - “

“Captain,” Spock begins icily. “Your behaviour suggests you are intending to beam down to the planet in exchange for the crew. I must strongly advise against this course of action, especially as we have no guarantee - “

Jim keeps walking, not looking at him. “Spock, I can’t leave them to die, I’m going - “

“You are the captain of this vessel and therefore we should regroup and - “

“Regroup with who? You heard Uhura, there’s no time - “

“Captain,” Spock snarls, and grips his arm. Jim jolts at the shock; Spock’s hand is hot, strong as it grips Jim’s forearm, and he stumbles to a stop. When he gets his bearing, he and Spock are close, faces a few inches from each other.

“Commander,” Jim sighs. “I can’t leave them down there. The Nargu have taken over an entire planet, we don’t exactly have the best track record here. And maybe if I’m down there I can - “

“I had hoped you were past underestimating your value to this crew,” Spock hisses, eyes dark. “Your position on the bridge is far more effective - “

“That’s what you're for, and Sulu and Scotty and - “

“Ashayam,” Spock snarls, “please consider another course of action.”

Jim freezes. Everything slows to a stop around them and he hears Uhura gasp. Jim frowns, eyes dropping to Spock’s face, to his lips and the unknown word that just fell from them. Spock’s eyes widen, like he didn’t mean to say that, and then it’s like a shutter closes.

“What was that?” Jim demands, balling one hand into a fist. “What did you just call me? What did you just say?”

“Captain, we must confer with Mr Scott - “

“Yeah, _but what did you say?”_

“Captain, we need you on the bridge,” Sulu’s worried voice comes through his ear, and Jim reluctantly flips his comm open.

“Yes, Mr Sulu, we’re on our way. Can we beam them up?”

“It, um, appears Lieutenant Jensen took matters into her own hands, Sir. It’s sort of - “

“I’m on my way,” Jim repeats, and clicks his comm shut. He doesn’t look back as he stalks back to the bridge, but he’s distinctly aware of Uhura and Spock murmuring to each other behind him.

Something sharp rises in his throat, and he shakes his head harshly.

 

-

 

They free the Selphians in the end. Lieutenant Jensen apparently got fed up with a Nargu officer trying to get handsy, stabbed him in the throat with his own dagger, and helped free all the other prisoners. This gave Scotty and Chekov enough time to disrupt the electromagnetic fields, meaning they could beam up all the crew members.

With no leverage and the Enterprise’s weapons locked onto them, the Nargu had eventually surrendered. Jensen gets a commendation. Chekov hugs her and cries a little. The Selphians are freed, and what looks likes the entire federation’s judicial apartment turns up.

It’s great. It’s all fucking sorted and tied up in a pretty ribbon, and he has a great crew, and no one died, and Jim is pissed to hell.

Jim is so mad. So so mad. Jim is ‘driving Frank’s car off a cliff’ levels of fury. Because honestly what the fuck.

“He swore at me,” Jim hisses, slamming his cup onto the table. “He said something so bad that he won’t even tell me what it is.”

Bones sits back in his chair, eyeing Jim’s cup. Jim’s cup of replicated coffee, because Jim has a ship to run and can’t get trashed just because his Vulcan officer trashed talked him. In Vulcan. “Jim, try not to break the ship. Or at least don’t break my office table.”

“What do you think it means?” Jim scowls, drawing his legs up to his chest and spinning a little in his chair. “I know it was bad because Uhura gasped.”

Bones sighs. “Well, what did it sound like?”

Jim frowns. “Um. A sham. A clam? Do they have clams on Vulcan?”

Bones is staring at him now, proper staring, like that time he told him he and Sulu were going try space diving. “Jim, do you - have you thought about why you’re so upset?”

  
Jim blinks at him. “Well, yeah, my First Officer just swore at me, in _Vulcan_.”

Bones sighs. “I swear at you all the time. Uhura told you that she was going to push you out an airlock. And I don’t think Sulu was telling you how pretty your hair looked when he was muttering in Korean the other day.”

“Oh my god, you’re right,” Jim says, sitting up and swinging his legs to the floor. “It’s even worse, because Spock never swears. Jesus, it must have been really, really bad.”

Bones rubs a hand over his face. “That’s not what I meant, kid.”

“Wouldn’t you think swearing is illogical anyway?”

“I don’t think pointy could say a bad word about you,” Bones mutters, but Jim doesn’t hear him.

 

-

 

Jim hates to admit it, but he avoids Spock after that. They run a ship together, so he can’t drop off the side of the galaxy, but their interactions now are always cool and professional. Jim doesn’t tease him, or steal food off Spock’s plate, or send him interesting files on his PADD. It also becomes obvious how blatant Jim has been, and he gets a sick queasy feeling when he thinks about it. The only solace is that Spock can’t have noticed, or he would have said something by now.

It’s been maybe a week of Jim avoiding Spock in the corridors and leaving quickly after shift. Jim has just finished alpha shift, and is pulling off his gold shirt when his door chimes.

“Computer, identify,” Jim mumbles, folding his shirt and placing it on his desk. He hopes it’s Bones. Or Scotty. Actually, he hasn’t been down to engineering for a bit, and he’s heard Chekov has stashed some vodka down there.

“Identify: Commander Spock.”

Jim frowns. “Let him in.”

His stomach flips when Spock walks in, a million tiny butterflies taking flight. Spock is still in his blue shirt, his hands clasped behind his back. “Captain.”

Jim sighs. “Commander.”

Spock frowns a little at that, and steps further into the room. The door closes behind him with a hiss, and Jim takes a seat on his bed. “Did you need something?”

Spock nods slowly. “I wished to discuss the Nargu mission.”

Jim wishes to set himself on fire. Jim wishes a black hole would open up and transport him somewhere nice and Romulan free. Jim wishes he had fell for the one person who means so much to him that he can’t risk screwing it up. _I wish, I wish, I wish._

Jim crosses his arms, rubbing them slightly. “What did you wish to discuss about it?”

“I referred to you in the Vulcan language,” Spock says quietly. Jim should have known he’d get right to the heart of it. Spock doesn’t flinch from anything. “Since then, you have indicated signs of anger and frustration. You have also decreased the time we spend together outside of shift by a considerable statistic.”

“No percentage?” Jim jokes flatly.

“I found I did not wish to calculate them,” Spock answers quietly, and all the air is tugged from Jim’s lungs.

He swallows, chest tight, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Spock, I - look I’ve been an idiot. You’re allowed to get pissed off.” Jim chews on his bottom lip. “Hell, even Bones pointed out that everyone else curses a blue streak around me. And I’m pretty certain I’ve said some choice phrases to you.”

I just never wanted you to say them back, he thinks hypocritically, and ducks his head.

Spock is quiet for a long while. “You thought the phrase had negative connotations?”

“Yeah. I figured it had to be pretty bad, considering you said it in a whole other language.”

“Jim, that is not what the word means.”

“I probably should have given you a free pass anyway, considering I literally told you you’ve never loved your mother.”

“Ashayam,” Spock states clearly, “shut up.”

Jim startles at that, so shocked that his mouth closes with a click. Spock moves closer, and Jim’s heart knocks against his ribs when Spock kneels in front of him. Spock lowers himself to his knees gracefully, so he is between Jim’s legs. Jim breathes out shakily, so close he can count every one of Spock’s long lashes.

Spock lifts one hand tentatively, and Jim inhales as a warm finger traces his cheekbones. “Ashayam,” Spock murmurs, so, so soft, “is not a profanity. It means beloved.”

Jim trembles. His hands reach for Spock without meaning to, fisting tightly in the back of a blue shirt. Spock’s finger drops from his cheekbone, and his dark eyes are nervous, cautious.

“It means one that holds you heart,” Spock whispers, “as you hold mine,” and that’s when Jim hauls him forward and kisses him.

 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter was a little rushed, a little quick, and it could be better I think, but I quite liked it. This is a five times fic, less structured than usual, so I don't dislike myself too much for it.
> 
> If you liked Lieutenant Jensen you should definitely say because I think I'm going to put her in my next Star Trek fic. I am also going to have more Gaila and Uhura, and my Chekov (little brother academy chekov who is also bi bi bi) and maybe carol marcus 
> 
> thank you everybody who has been commenting on this and has been leaving kudos! I really appreciate it :) :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a few people have let comments on every chapter of this, so I just wanted to say thank you to Artemus Lotus, kaay++southern and driedupwishes (along with everyone else who's commented) because I just appreciate it so much!

“You know, we should probably send Chekov a present.”

Jim’s sprawled on his bed, lying on his back as he scrolls through files on his PADD. He glances over to his desk, where Spock is sitting. It’s majorly embarrassing because his stomach does that stupid little flip thing, like the time he slipped on engine oil and fell down the stairs in engineering. (Jim had a bruise the size of a fist and Bones banned him from engineering for a month.)

Jim glances at Spock and then can’t stop looking; like there’s an invisible string drawing them together. Spock is writing up a report, and he’s all clear lines and dark eyes and graceful movements, and Jim’s heart kicks like a jack rabbit. 

It’s been a week. A week of sharing quarters and sneaky Vulcan kisses, and bruising human kisses (and who knew Vulcans could do that with their tongue?), and Jim still isn’t used to it. 

Spock doesn’t look up from his PADD. “I was not aware of any upcoming Earth festivities.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “No, I meant a thank you present.”

Spock does look up at that. “There is something you wish to show Ensign Chekov your gratitude for?”

Jim puts his PADD down. “Well, if he hadn’t been so cute and adoptable I wouldn’t have realised what a softie you are.”

Spock scowls at him. “Ensign Chekov is not up for adoption, and Vulcans are not ‘soft’.”

“You are,” Jim grins, and then grins wider when Spock looks even more pissed off. “Also if we hadn’t thrown him a party then I never would have got the idea to throw you one. And I know that was the moment you wanted to buy me a Vagra and have my babies.”

“Vagra are an endangered species and not suitable pets,” Spock says after a pause, and Jim bursts into laughter. 

“Come here,” Jim smiles, not trying to keep the affection out of his voice. He can hear how fond his tone is, the way the warmth threads through it. 

Spock frowns at him, but stiffly makes his way over to the bed. He perches on the edge of it, but Jim tugs at his sleeve so Spock is leaning over him. Spock is propped up on his forearms, Vulcan strength making it easy for him to hover over Jim without any real effort.

Jim lifts a hand and cups Spock’s cheek, and Spock’s eyes flutter closed. “I guess you also get points for swearing at me in Vulcan.”

“I did not - “ Spock begins, eyes snapping open, then sighs when he’s sees Jim is only joking. He leans closer instead, presses his hot mouth to Jim’s neck, and Jim shivers as Spock scrapes his teeth over the sensitive skin there. Jim fists his hands in Spock’s hair in retaliation, lets his thumb catch on one pointed ear.

Spock pulls back, and Jim inhales when he sees his lips are wet. “If we are preparing a list, perhaps Lieutenant Uhura should also be added.”

“Uhura?”

Spock nods slowly. “Nyota has always been a close confidant of mine. She was intricate in helping me express my feelings for you.” He pauses. “Before I even understood the sentiment.”

Jim kisses him, brings their mouths together for a slow, close mouthed kiss. Spock adjusts a little so his hips press into Jim’s, and Jim tangles their legs together, groans at the hot line of Spock’s body as it moves against his.

“Also Sulu, because you were totally checking me out that time time in the turbolift.”

“Shut up,” Spock pants, and Jim laughs when Spock flips him over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! This chapter is ridiculously short but I liked it. I am pretty new to this fandom so there are parts where I think I could expand a little more, but again, it's a five times fic so I'm not too sadd
> 
> the next fic I am going to write for this pairing is an academy au (if you missed the note in the last chapter), which I am excited for!
> 
> oh and my Tumblr - http://ariadneodair.tumblr.com/ - if you wanted to come cry over Jim Kirk

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Or not? Do not what you want, pals
> 
> (This piece was already called took me sometime (but I figured out) but I changed it!)


End file.
